


The Time Pirates Union

by cleverqueen



Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Episode: s01e07 Marooned, Gen, Partnership, time pirates - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-10
Updated: 2016-04-10
Packaged: 2018-06-01 09:24:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6512620
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cleverqueen/pseuds/cleverqueen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Len was always going to come back for Mick. Now that Mick was Kronos, that had become a little harder, but if <em>Rip</em> could outsmart the Time Masters then he surely could.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Time Pirates Union

**Author's Note:**

> I would like to note how proud I am of finding the correct way to spell "low-Earth orbit." Thank you, NASA press release.

Len was always going back for Mick. That’s the thing you had to understand. So this whole universe was fake and destined to collapse.

After Mick became Kronos, it was going to be a bit harder, but that wasn’t going to keep Len from picking up his partner. Mick was his responsibility, and Len took that seriously.

*

_Then:_

When he’d temporarily left Mick—“marooned” him, as Kronos put it—he’d gone through all his partner’s things on the Waverider. It wasn’t like Mick needed them. Even if it was stealing, that wasn’t going to stop him. He was a thief, after all.

Among the assorted Zippos and henleys and toolkits, in a drawer next to a chair draped with that outlandish fur coat, Len found the beacon and communicator. A bit of tinkering later, and Len possessed a direct line to some _very_ annoyed time pirates.

“We got better things to do than chat with some pissant who stumbled across daddy’s tech,” sneered the pirate captain. At least, Len assumed he sneered since the communicator was voice-only.

To which Len replied by asking if the pirates could really afford to let their equipment go missing. From what he’d seen, the pirates weren’t the best funded group of criminals. While his Rogues could get by on a lean month, crews who traveled through space and time had to worry about things like oxygen leaks and engine fuel.

The captain almost hung up on him then, but there must have been an engineer or accountant around, because another pirate asked, “What’s it to you?”

“I’m just pointing out,” Len said as innocently as he could, “that you’ve got high hazard work, and your pay should be commensurate with your risks.”

The pirate captain growled. “What?”

“How exactly _is_ your salary system structured?” asked Len.

“We’re _pirates_! We got shares and plans, and it’s none of your business!”

Len imagined the captain spitting into the little round communicator just like his own. “Sure,” Len said mildly. “Have you had an auditor out lately?”

“We’re _pirates!_ ”

And then the communicator beeped twice and went silent. Len smirked to the darkening corners of Mick’s room, still smelling of ash and sickly sweet beer. (It was lucky the Waverider didn’t get ants the way Central City did.)

This had been a good first contact with his potential marks.

*

_Now:_

After the Legends finally defeated Savage—of course in Central City 2015, with help from The Flash, which explained why the kid had been so willing to trust his nemeses that year—the team split off to go their own ways.

  * Sara turned down the chance to hop back to 2016. She told Rip she was going to use the extra months to go “find herself.” _Good luck._ If Len didn’t have plans, he might have asked to tag along.
  * Firestorm were conferring with Cisco about something a bit too fiddly for Len to follow, but it sounded like they planned to run tests in a lab before the Legends went home.
  * Kendra and Ray swung their hands between them as they walked to the cloaked Waverider. _Digustingly cute and wholesome._ Len was happy that Kendra had gotten to pick her own love this time, and Mick had liked Ray enough to save his life, so Len didn’t begrudge the Atom his happily ever after.
  * Mick shifted across his feet, one hand clenched in his pocket and the other around his gun stock. _Like Alanis Morisette. I got one hand in my pocket and the other one is burning you all to the ground. Isn’t it ironic?_



Len didn’t have much room to mock. He still held his own cold gun, charged and glowing. “Mick,” Len said, “why don’t you head back to ship?”

Mick grumbled, but did as asked without fighting. They really _weren’t_ going to get their balance back as a duo in this timeline. Len could live with that if he had to. Hopefully it wouldn’t be too long.

Eventually it was just him and Rip. The ex-Time Master arched a brow. “Well, Mister Snart?”

Len aimed his gun at Rip’s hot, vital guts. They’d freeze as well as any other part of him, and the target area was hardest to miss. “Sorry,” he drawled. “Not sorry.”

Rip’s face filled with compassion. “I understand,” he said. Which was extremely annoying, but whatever. Len was getting what he wanted whether Rip annoyed him or not.

He tripped the beacon in his pocket.

*

_Then:_

It hadn’t taken Len long to figure out the available frequencies on his time pirate communication device. His discoveries had been helped along by a frustrated second officer who planned to work her way up via mutiny. Len’s informant had made everything cool with the communicator, and Len had helped her heat up the situation on her ship. Win-win.

Mutiny is easier the more people are involved , and well-paid mutineers are happiest of all.

Within weeks, he had a reputation for seeing to the heart of a problem. Of course, the problem was usually money. That was the reason people became pirates in the first place.

Within months, he was suggesting certain pirate crews work together so they could negotiate for better pay with the fences.

A suspicious old captain had jumped on that. “Are you offering to be our fence?” she’d accused.

Len would never be so transparent! “No, no. It’s only that you’re undercutting each other, you see.”

“We couldn’t possibly trust the crew you’re _ordering_ me to work with!”

“Suggesting.” Len was the one to cut the connection that time.

In two days, the same ship called him back on the same frequency but with a much younger sounding captain. “What were you saying about fencing stolen goods?”

Len smiled. “Let me set you up with a particularly discreet contact of mine.”

*

_Now:_

The Time Masters arrived in Central City 2015. Twelve of them landed in a capsule that looked more like a dull grey suppository than a space ship. Their outfits all had ridiculous collars and sweeping hemlines. No wonder Rip never took off his coat, if these were his fashion models.

Of course, they’d arrived too late. Savage was already defeated, which they _supposedly_ hadn’t wanted to happen. Len took this as a good sign. It was exactly what he would have wanted to happen, which might have meant that his negotiations were destined to work out.

He had Rip trussed up and ready to hand over.

A Time Master with wizened skin and drooping eyes pressed his palms into a steeple and bowed to Len. It should have been a respectful gesture, but it felt condescending. “We thank you for your dedication to preserving the time stream.”

That was some mighty fine double-talk. It could have meant anything.

“You’re welcome.” No reason not to be polite. “I’m thinking, I’ll give you Rip and you’ll let me get Mick before he becomes Kronos.”

The other eleven Time Masters gasped and slapped hands with each other in a game of consternation patty cake.

“Yeah,” said Len, drawing out the words to hide his disappointment. He prodded his gun into Rip’s side, but didn’t let his captive move away. “I didn’t think so.”

The spokesman bowed again. _I knew it was a condescending gesture!_ “I’m terribly sorry, but he’s much too valuable an operative. We could drop you back home if you like, instead. I’m afraid Mister Hunter won’t be available.”

The Time Master didn’t sound sorry.

“I can get my own ride, thanks.”

*

_Then:_

If Len had a talent, it was organizing criminals. He could get all kinds of crews to work together because they all knew he was going to get them the best score.

That talent hadn’t been as handy as he’d hoped among the Legends. But it worked wonders among the time pirates.

In his spare time, he’d convinced seven sets of mutineers to overthrow their captains, gotten all the temporal fences of 2077 to walk out on strike, and helped the time ship AIs negotiate for their own shares of spoils.

He’d shown the pirates how to work together on jobs, and they _would_ so long as Len moderated their involvement, but they wouldn’t do it on their own. They didn’t trust each other. Not within their crews and not outside of them. Though, that was changing with ever more successful “pre-emptive salvaging.” Money and food and luxuries made everyone happy and soft.

They just didn’t trust each other. But they _did_ trust Len and Len’s talent for organization.

*

_Now:_

When Len said, “I can get my own ride, thanks,” it triggered a decloaking protocol. First one time ship appeared on the ground behind him, a little scorched. Then another right behind the Time Masters’ suppository, three times as large and with a skull and crossbones painted on its nose.

Proximity alarms beeped on the twelve delegates’ wrists as three more decloaked in low-Earth orbit.

“Are you threatening us?” asked the Time Masters’ spokesman. His wrinkled face didn’t so much as twitch. _Do they teach this calm stoicism at Time Master school?_

“I’m giving you a gift,” Len corrected. He holstered his gun—he didn’t need it for intimidation anymore. “Wouldn’t you like to have an organized and self-training force of time travel experts? They’re happy to work with you for a sensible wage and a cut of the action, plus 23rd century dental.”

“You’re giving us a union?” The pirates were worth a lot more than Rip Hunter, Wanted Man, and the Time Master wasn’t a complete idiot.

Len smiled, cold and frost-white. “Gotta pay your dues. In this case, that’s my partner, right where I left him.”

The Time Master shook his head. “One could say you shouldn’t have been so careless with your possessions.”

Len was out of patience. He had the upper hand, and if these Time Muppets didn’t want to bow to superior force, then he’d show them the error of their ways. “Or one could say you don’t piss off a union of time pirates. I can have them harry you to the dawn of time and beyond. Up to you.”

Deals were more Mick’s thing, anyway.

*

_Now:_

The Time Masters took the deal. _Of course_ , the Time Masters took the deal. They didn’t have much choice.

No one outsmarted Leonard Snart, and no one took his partner. He and Mick fought each other, they bled each other, but heaven help the rival crew who stood between them.

Len had a time pirate ship take him to the woods where he’d left Mick two weeks after the “marooning.” It was dark out and cold enough to see his breath steaming up the air.

He powered up his cold gun and let the charge-light illuminate the scene. It cast its pale blue glow over trees and sticks, decaying leaves and Mick.

Mick huddled against bark, letting a tree trunk break the midnight wind. Skittering _pit-a-pat_ s made the leaves around his knees tremble. Mick leapt, arching through the air and pouncing onto prey Len couldn’t see like an arctic fox hunting beneath the snow.

Len hummed, louder than his gun’s buzz. “Don’t tell me rats taste better than prison food.”

Mick’s head swiveled and a furious frown darkened his brow, pulling scars and dirt-streaked sweat together. “I’d never have to find out if you hadn’t left me here, _pal_.” He dusted his hands against stained trousers, free of ratty deliciousness.

“I came back, didn’t I?” Len was always going to come back for Mick.

Mick stalked to him, redolent with sweat and leaf-rot. “That you did,” he said, putrid breath overwhelming Len’s nasal receptors.

And then he socked Len right in the jaw.

Len saw it coming, but he didn’t move out of the way. He deserved this. For the Vanishing Point. For the nightmares. For making Mick think he’d ever been abandoned. (Not this Mick. This Mick hadn’t give up his faith in Len. But that other Mick—Kronos—was a different story.)

Len stumbled back with the force of the hit, waited a moment, then asked, “You got that out of your system now?”

Mick tilted his head to the side, like he was really thinking about it. It made him look even more animalistic than when pouncing on rats. “Yeah, I’m good.”

“You coming or what?” Len held out a hand.

Mick bypassed the hand and went straight for a hug, hot and sewage-smelling. “Knew you’d come back for me.”

As they ambled back to where Len’s time pirate pawns waited, Mick shivered dramatically. “The rats were starting to look mighty tasty.”

Len laughed, and if it was a little forced then no one would ever know. “I doubt you could have choked down one. It might have reminded you of Princess Rattina.” Rattina’d had a golden cage and all the matchbook bedding she could want for the five years she’d lived in a corner of Mick’s favorite flophouse when they’d finished their last tour of juvie.

“Rattina was a fine lady,” Mick agreed.

Len was always coming back. That’s the thing you had to understand. That whole other universe was a fake, a decoy timeline. This one would be real, no matter who else Len had to threaten, organize, or unionize to keep it that way.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! If you got this far, maybe you want to be friends on [tumblr](http://cleverqueen.tumblr.com/)?


End file.
